Liquid Courage
by ScapeArtist
Summary: After the events of The Tower, Emma asks Hook to keep an eye on her father. Drinking ensues.
1. Liquid Courage

Emma put her hand on her father's arm and looked closely at him. "Are you ok to drive?"

David flashed his most confident looking smile and patted Emma's hand. "Yeah, of course I am. I'm fine."

Her mouth turned down as if her inner lie detector was starting to ping, and she nodded in Hook's direction. "Take Hook with you just in case, ok?"

With more than a little irritation, Hook resisted. "And what bloody use will I be if he's _not_? I can't operate his vehicle. And I'm not familiar with that..." he gestured his hook at the object in David's hand, "_phone_ thing either."

Emma closed her eyes and huffed in frustration. "You can...be moral support. Or something," she waved her hand dismissively. She walked closer to Hook and said quietly, "Just do it, please? I need to drop off Regina and get back to Henry. I've hardly seen him today. I'll meet you back at the inn later, ok? Just make sure he gets back to the loft in one piece."

Letting out a defeated sigh, Hook pulled at the whiskers beneath his lip and looked up at Emma. Her concern for her father was written in the two deep creases between her brows and the thin line of her mouth, and he didn't have the heart or energy to argue about it anymore. "Aye," he acceded.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

The ride into town was thankfully silent as the sun was just beginning to set, and Hook didn't push for conversation, preferring the distraction of the countryside sliding into the deceptively sleepy-looking seaside town as they drove. Generally, the Prince had the gift for gab and was generous with it, but not now. He had a look of determination carved into the line of his jaw and set of his eyes that was disturbed by the occasional squall of worry or a fleeting ghost of a tender smile only to tack right back to steely resolve. The subtle play of emotions across the man's face reminded Hook of Emma, and he let loose a small sigh that fogged the cool window he rested his head against.

Once at the center of town, David drove right past his apartment building and continued on for another couple of blocks before pulling in short to an empty space in the lot next door to The Rabbit Hole. Hook could recognize a seedy drinking establishment anywhere and was not entirely sorry they were there. Still, he was pretty sure this wasn't part of Emma's instructions, and he was even more certain one of them was going to be read the riot act later and it probably was not going to be David.

"You sure this is such a good idea, mate?" Hook questioned as they got out of the truck.

With a short, bitter laugh David said, "I'm sure it's not. Also sure I don't give a shit at the moment. Come on. Drinks'r on me."

Hook shrugged and followed David into the dimly-lit tavern. The relatively early hour meant few patrons, but the staff bustled about preparing for the oncoming evening rush. The music playing in the background was at a reasonable decibel and not too offensive to Hook's ears, but he could smell the familiar slightly sour odor of alcohol forever trapped in the floorboards like many a tavern he had frequented in his day, and he felt somewhere between nauseated and a comforted. Drinking was drinking no matter the realm and sharing a drink was a way to find out important information, which, for a pirate, was valuable currency when navigating the many ports he visited. When it came down to it, he was as at home in a tavern as he was on a ship.

Leaning up against the bar, David motioned to the barkeep and pointed to a bottle and asked for a couple of glasses. He tossed his currency on the counter, grabbed the glasses and bottle, then headed for one of the booths that lined the far wall. Hook had just slid into his seat by the time the Prince had unscrewed the cap of the bottle, poured him a generous helping of rum, and slid the glass, liquor sloshing over the edge, across the table to him. David poured himself a glass of equal measure and lifted it.

"To killing yourself...and living to tell the tale," he declared, then knocked back the entirety of his glass, punctuated by rolling shiver, grimace, and another pour. Hook merely sipped on his rum knowing he was going to have to assist David home at some point in the probably not-too-distant future and it wouldn't pay to be inebriated himself. Courting danger in the wild was one thing, setting himself up for Swan's inevitable wrath was another entirely.

The color was already blooming in David's cheeks after one drink, and, along with it, Hook could sense a tide of words rising to the surface and he braced for it. David tossed back his second drink and let out a long, slow breath as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"This day has been unnerving from start to finish. First the midwife from who-the-hell-knows-where invading my kitchen, then...almost getting killed by...by myself...topped off with Rumplestiltskin back from the dead _and_ at large. The only way this day is going to end well is with a drink...or three."

David picked up the bottle and began to tip it into his glass when Hook blocked the opening of it and used a finger to push the bottle back upright.

"Slow down, mate. First, you are far too unwieldily for me to drag back to your flat by myself. Second, I do not wish to have your pregnant wife nor your over-protective daughter remove any of my other appendages because I let you return home too sauced to recognize them. I value my life, thank you very much."

"You think Emma's protective of me?" David asked looking at Hook with a painful sincerity.

"Would I be sitting here otherwise?"

David huffed through his nose and crossed his arms over his chest. "You wound me. But I suppose you're right." His eyes drifted shut and he gritted his teeth. "You know, _I'm_ the one who's supposed to be doing the protecting. Keeping Emma safe was _my_ job and I continue to blow it over and over again."

"Emma can take care of herself, mate. Why are you so hard on...wait..." Hook sat back as all the pieces started snapping into place. He shook his finger at David and smiled smugly. "Now I understand. Your deepest fear was about your parenting skills, wasn't it?"

"Or lack thereof..." David said and poured some morerum in his glass. He picked it up and held it in front of his mouth but didn't drink.

Hook rested his arms on the table and leaned in. "You're afraid you won't be...aren't...a good father. That was what you were really facing in the woods today."

Finally taking a sip then gently putting down his glass, David asked, "That obvious?"

"Aye, but you vanquished it now, didn't you?" David gave a half-hearted nod but still looked troubled. Hook gulped his own rum and set the glass back down as he looked past David into the bar, which was beginning to fill up with boisterous locals. "Listen, mate," he continued, "I can promise you are leagues ahead of my own father, when it comes to parenting, so you've got nothing to worry about."

David pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I bet he didn't abandon you. Twice."

Hook chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "No, the once was enough, I assure you. At least you are sorry about it. That's an improvement right there."

David sat up straight and studied Hook. "So you were abandoned as well?"

"Aye. When I was a boy," he admitted.

"Huh. That explains a lot."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Hook asked, affronted.

"Nothing...I see now why you..." David trailed off as the drink started to slow down his thinking.

"Why. I. What." Hook bit out, starting to be very sorry he hadn't put up more of a fight when Emma requested he watch over her father.

"Why you are drawn to her. To Emma. You know what she's been through."

Hook sighed and picked up the bottle and hovered it over David's glass. "Another drink, Dave?"

"Yeah, hit me," he said and held the glass relatively steady for Hook to pour. Looking thoughtfully into the glass as he swirled the light brown liquid around, David asked Hook, "Would you forgive him?"

"Who?" Hook knocked back another gulp of his drink.

"Your father. Would you forgive him for leaving you?"

Hook shrugged and frowned. "Dunno. Never came up." David looked crestfallen at Hook's answer and tipped back his glass, emptying it again. Hook rolled his eyes and wiped the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger while he thought about what to say next. Liam was more a father than theirs had ever been, and his brother's care was the only thing that saved him from an early grave or a life of indentured servitude. His own father was a vague memory and forgiveness was not something Hook gave easily.

He shifted in his seat and clinked the bottle with his hook which pulled David's attention away from his brooding. Hook took the opportunity to try to get through to him before the next glass of rum cut off all thinking for the man. He took a deep breath and said earnestly, "David, you are not my father and, in spite of our common circumstances, I am not Emma. If you are worried about her forgiveness, and think it is holding you back from being a better father, then talk to her about it."

David thought it over and sighed. He slid his glass over to Hook and said, "Then I'm going to need another drink."

. . . . . . .

The door to the loft slammed open with the weight of David propelling Hook forward through the doorway faster and far more awkwardly than he intended. Emma and Mary Margaret both turned, startled, and Emma's hand went to her gun as she jumped from her seat.

Lumbering out of her chair, Mary Margaret cried, "David! Where have you been?! I was getting worried about you!"

Hook grunted trying to keep David from falling over and taking them both down. "A little assistance, please, Swan?" he asked, voice straining at the effort of managing the large drunken Prince dragging at his shoulder.

Emma raced over and put David's right arm around her shoulder to redistribute his weight and take some of the pressure off Hook. David looked over at her and gave her a broad grin and with shining eyes kissed the side of her head. Loudly. He pulled his arm tighter around Hook, practically putting him in a headlock and whispered far too loudly to actually be a whisper. "Emma, Emma...this one's a keeper."

Emma raised her eyebrows and glanced over at Hook who was obviously not drunk enough to find the situation remotely funny. "Ooohkaay...David. Thanks for the...letter of recommendation."

David tried to right himself and loosened up his grip on Hook enough so he was able to slide out from under David's arm. David kept a tight hold on the pirate's shoulder, though, and swayed as he turned back to Emma. "Did you know he—"

Hook interrupted him without haste. He thumped David on the chest and laughed. "_Whoa Mate_! Let's get you into your room, ok? Come along now..."

Emma looked confused and amused all at the same time and helped Hook guide her father over to the guest bed and unceremoniously dumped him face down into the pillows. They sighed in unison and shut the door behind them just as David began snoring.

"Sooo..." Emma said, looking at Hook expectantly.

"Got him home just as you asked," Hook said with a bright facade.

"This," she said, waving toward the closed door and racket coming from it, "is not _quite_ what I meant."

Hook shrugged, his lips pressed together in a small, tight frown. "Well, love, next time be more specific," he offered.

"What was he—" Emma began.

"You know what, darling, this has been a long day and I'm tired. I'm heading back to the inn. I'll see you in the morning, yes?"

"Uh, I...guess so?"

"Right then. 'Night m'lady" he bowed in the direction of Mary Margaret and strode out the door without another word.

Emma's mouth gaped as she continued to stare at the closed door. After a few seconds, she turned to her mother and asked, "Got anything stronger than tea?"


	2. Solid Fear

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed "Liquid Courage." Some of you asked for a continuation, so here it is. Thanks again!**

Hook awoke suddenly from an already restless sleep at the sound of someone stumbling on the stairs outside his room. It wasn't the thin walls shaking, or the thud of a miscalculated step that clued him in, so much as the barely hushed—and spectacularly colorful—cursing that followed. Seemed that Emma Swan had finally returned from her parents' apartment after he had escaped her inquisition earlier that night, compliments of her ridiculously drunken father. Hook lay still, eyes closed, waiting patiently for Emma to enter her room and lock the door behind her so he could pretend that he didn't want to see her and attempt to fall back to sleep. Alone. Again.

The noises from the room next door — more thumping, the occasional "_dammit_!" and one rather loud "_oof_!"—finally stopped and Hook dozed off, which was short-lived as it turned out. The scratching of metal-on-metal roused him yet again and he sat up, reaching for his pants at the end of his bed. He grudgingly slid into them, not bothering to close them all the way, and picked up his shirt from the chair as he walked to the door. He flicked on the light and put his currently hookless arm through one sleeve and head through the neck hole, then flung open the door and found himself navel-to-nose with Emma.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her lock picks dropping from her hands and tinkling to the floor. The unexpected lack of door threw off her balance and she bumped her face against the warm, firm, and pleasantly furred stomach of the-not-quite-finished-dressing Hook. The hem of his shirt draped over the crown of her head as Hook pulled his other arm through and let the shirt front fall the rest of the way. He caught Emma — who was scrabbling around for her tools — under her arm and hoisted her upright before things got any more awkward. He could not help but notice the smell of alcohol on her breath as she tried to steady herself with her hand on his now covered chest and her nose only a couple of inches from his.

"My, my, my, you are your father's daughter, aren't you?" he laughed.

Emma blew a flyaway hair that was tickling her nose and looked askance at Hook. "No idea what you mean."

He stepped out of the way to let her in his room with a sweep of his arm. "You could have just knocked, Swan."

"Didn't want to wake anyone," Emma said as she passed him, her hair trailing loosely in her wake.

Hook hid another laugh under his hand, then rubbed behind his ear as he said, "We're the only ones staying here, love." He leaned against the now closed door and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Didn't want to wake Henry?" she tried instead. Her excuse was flimsy and they both knew it, but he could see in her demeanor that this wasn't the nighttime visit he had been fantasizing about for what felt like a lifetime.

Hook pushed off the door and stepped toward Emma. She had a look of determination underneath the haze of drink, and he sensed whatever it was she came for, she wasn't leaving without it. The thought both unnerved and aroused him, but he schooled his expression and waited for her to make a move. Her eyes met his and she blinked slowly, obviously still working off her liquor, and she licked her bottom lip surreptitiously. It was his favorite tell of hers when she was nervous. Given the number of unfinished conversations they'd had within the last several days, it was anyone's guess why she decided to come to him now, but he had his suspicions.

He tilted his head, considered her thoughtfully, and inquired, "Any particular reason for trying to break into my quarters, love?"

Emma put her hands on her hips and shot Hook a smug smile. "I am paying for the room...so it's not _really_ breaking and entering..."

"Then perhaps you should've just used your key," he reminded her.

Emma looked away, clearly embarrassed that she had forgotten she had his spare key. "Oh...right..."

Hook reached out and put his hand on her arm and caught her gaze. "Love, what are you doing here? It's late and I'm going to assume we'll need to be up early to catch ourselves a lost crocodile."

"What was David going to tell me about you earlier?" she asked without further preamble, her curiosity finally confirming Hook's ideas about her presence in his room. He just wasn't convinced this was the time or place to discuss what was, at this point, a fact of little consequence.

"No idea, love. Just the ramblings of a drunken prince, I'm afraid."

"It wasn't. You cut him off on purpose. Why?" Emma narrowed her eyes at him, looking more sober by the minute.

"Curiosity getting the better of you now? Perhaps it was just my tale to tell and not his, lass," he offered, sounding tired.

"So tell it," she commanded.

Hook sighed knowing he was never going to get any peace until he capitulated. He held her gaze intently so she would know he wasn't being deceptive. "Very well, but it's probably not what you are hoping to hear. I only told him how my own father abandoned me as a child, too."

Emma's eyes widened at his clearly unexpected response, and she said softly almost to herself. "Oh...that explains a lot."

"Like father, like daughter..." Hook muttered.

"That day...on the beanstalk...you said you knew I was an orphan. It had nothing to do with Neverland though."

"Aye."

"Why haven't you told me this before?" she asked sounding a touch hurt.

"I did try once..." he said, sounding far off and looking beyond her thinking about that day in Bae's cave on Neverland when he told her he knew what it was like to lose hope. So many times he had lost hope that the absence of his father seemed...insignificant compared to everything else. What she was missing, and kept missing, though, was that he always found hope again. First in Liam, then in Milah, and then in her. All he ever meant was for her to see that she could do the same. That they were the same — capable of being more than their pain. He brought his gaze back to meet hers and stated simply, "You weren't interested at the time." He cleared his throat and asked, "Might I ask what's changed?"

"Nothing."

Hook may not have had her lie detector super power, but he spent centuries learning to read people out of necessity, and he knew there was more to her answer than that. "Now who's hiding something?" he asked.

Emma took a moment and seemed to consider his accusation. "Maybe it's what David said before that."

"Refresh my memory," Hook requested.

"He said you were a 'keeper.'"

"Mmm. And you believe him?"

Emma frowned. "Drunk as he was, he wasn't lying, if that's what you mean."

Shaking his head, Hook took a step closer and searched Emma's face. "That's not what I meant at all. _Do. You. Believe him_?"

"Maybe...I don't know!" Emma blurted out, the anguish as clear on her face as it was on his.

"'Maybe'" he repeated. "I see." He was too weary to hide his disappointment, but her answer wasn't surprising, either. Their year apart was so much more than just the passing of days and nights. It was his need and love for her growing stronger every day, while she loved another unwittingly — no matter his true nature — with absolutely no recollection of Hook whatsoever. He was so far ahead of her feelings and waiting for her to catch up was stretching his nerves to capacity. Hook knew what he needed to give her, what she needed to have, but in that moment he couldn't bear the thought of it. He turned away from her and sat on the edge of his bed looking and feeling defeated.

Emma took a tentative step toward him and stopped. "Hook..." she said quietly. He didn't look up at her, but ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "Killian...I...I just need time."

Holding his hand up in surrender, Hook said with a broken, desperate laugh, "I know, Emma. I really do. I just hope someday you'll see what I see and believe it like I do. But right now, all I want is to sleep." _And to escape this confrontation in the only acceptable way possible_, he left out.

She took another step and reached out to touch him, but not quite making contact. He could feel the soft warmth coming from her hand, and he ached to take it and pull her into his arms and bed, but instead held back, because with time comes its partner in crime: space.

He smiled tightly, trying not to damage them further. He looked into her face, meeting her eyes — so full of pain and uncertainty. "Goodnight, Swan. I'll see you in the morning."

Emma's hand dropped to her side and she let out a long shaky breath. She looked slightly relieved at his words as she echoed, "See you in the morning."

. . . . . . . . .

Sitting in a booth in Granny's diner, mid-way through her first cup of coffee, Emma was deep in thought about her late-night visit with Hook. She felt terrible for pushing him into a conversation he so obviously didn't want to have and was embarrassed for trying to sneak in his room to have it. She didn't know what she was thinking — not just in getting drunk, but getting drunk enough to act like a demanding harpy. Just thinking about the pain she caused Hook...Killian...made her want to disappear into a hole...maybe even another realm because she was obviously not fit for human consumption. So when a large body slid unexpectedly into the seat across from her, it took her by surprise and she almost spilled her coffee down her sweater.

Looking up, she was greeted by the very haggard-looking face of her father — sunglasses on and a light scruff sprinkled across his chin and jaw. He motioned to Ruby for a coffee and pulled off his sunglasses with a grimace.

"Wasn't expecting you here so early," Emma said, sympathetic smile playing across her face.

"Well, you know, early bird stays out of the way of his very angry and very pregnant wife. Mary Poppins is there now, so I got the hell out of their way. I'm pretty sure I wasn't welcome."

Emma laughed as Ruby set down an extra large mug of coffee in front of David. "Smells like you had one hell of a night," she teased.

"I took a shower," said David, offended.

Ruby's eyes widened, and with a toothy grin she said, "Yes, I know. You are a regular bouquet buffet. Enjoy your coffee!" And with that she turned and sauntered back to the counter.

David just shook his head and blew on his coffee to bring it down to a drinkable temperature. "No respect," he groused between puffs.

"You _were_ in rare form last night," Emma ribbed. "What happened? Did you lose a bet with Hook or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I dragged him along, so if anyone lost a bet, it was him."

"Why the drunken stupor?"

"Rough day, mostly. It's not often I duel with myself outside my head. I guess it bothered me more than I wanted to admit."

"Go figure," she commiserated and took another sip of coffee.

David set down his mug and stared at Emma, his earnestness erasing some of the harsh effects of the night before. He inhaled, and she could tell he was gearing up for something unpleasant. He knit his eyebrows then looked at Emma hopefully and asked, "Emma, can you forgive me?"

Emma was taken aback and stared at David open-mouthed. "Forgive you? For what? Getting shitfaced?" she asked, confused. Not like she hadn't been more than a little tipsy herself last night.

He shook his head. "No. For...for not being there for you all those years. For not protecting you. For never really being a father."

Worry seized her heart and she was afraid something happened to him like it did with the dreamshade in Neverland. There was a witch on the loose after all. "David, what's all this about? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. It's just that seeing you again after letting you go for the second time, and then this new threat...and now the baby...I'm not feeling qualified for the job."

Emma smiled at him kindly and reached for his hand. He took it gratefully, and squeezed hers in return.

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt like hell to be without you all those years. It did, and sometimes it still does. But I know you didn't abandon me because you wanted to and knowing that helps," Emma explained. She went on, "Do I wish there had been another way both times? Hell yeah. But I know you wished for the same thing."

David leaned forward over the table and touched Emma's cheek. "I would have done _anything_ to spare you that life if I had known how hard it was going to be," he said with a voice so full of emotion Emma's chest and throat began to tighten up. David sat back in his seat the two of them shared a shaky inhale and drank from their mugs in unison, letting the moment sink in. Not long after, David put his mug back down, and shot Emma a sidelong glance. "I would have much preferred damaging you in far kinder ways," he admitted.

"Like catching you having sex with my mother in the middle of the day?" she said with a sly grin.

"Exactly," he said, flashing an identical smile. Emma wrinkled her face in semi-mock disgust and gave an exaggerated shiver, causing David to laugh deeply.

"Listen," she said, changing her tone to one of sincerity and affection. "I don't expect you to be a father in the traditional sense. Let's face it, I'm not a traditional child. But you are so important to me. You've supported me when I needed it so many times. We even work well together — I always know you've got my back, and that means more to me than I can say. How much more fatherly do you need to be to feel like one?"

"Sounds more like a friend than a father," David said with a tinge of disappointment.

"A friend you love _is_ family," Emma said.

That seemed to satisfy David for the moment. "Yeah...yeah it is." Arching his eyebrows, he tapped the space on the table between them and said conspiratorially, "I will admit I'm not entirely sorry to have missed the terrible two's."

"I'll just have to make up for it by having an extra long rebellious teenager phase," she countered.

"Speaking of that, where's Hook?" David looked around the diner to make sure he didn't miss the pirate sitting elsewhere. "I owe him an apology for last night."

"You and me both," Emma muttered.

"Oh? Do I dare ask?"

"As my father or my friend?"

"Either, or," David said with a shrug.

Emma looked down into her now cold coffee, heartsick. "I hurt his feelings. Again. It's my special talent." She looked up at David, lips pressed together in a thin line, chagrined.

"I see. Well, when you are ready to stop being so..._talented_, I'm sure he'll be there to listen," David reassured her.

"Because 'he's a keeper?'" Emma asked archly.

David looked at her with feigned confusion and said, "What's he keep? Bees?"

"Ugh, _Dad_..."


End file.
